Touch of the Demon kg-5

by Diana Rowland

  “Neither he nor Sehkeril will approach or harass you while you are here,” he assured me. “I have his oath. He is not one you need fear.”

  “Okay, then what about the collar?” I asked with a challenging lift of my chin. “If you have his oath then why am I still wearing this fucking thing?”

  “Because all those who will be within these walls for the next few days are ruthless and would seek to delve into your being,” he replied without hesitation. “The collar offers protection from that.”

  Anger and frustration flared as my patience with all the shit about my protection evaporated. “Collars are for slaves and pets. So, which am I?” I dropped to my knees before him. “Hell, might as well do this right. Okay, master, what’s your fucking command?”

  Something dark and dangerous flickered over his face. He reached down with both hands to seize me by the upper arms and haul me to my feet, then held me in place, his face inches from mine.

  “You are not to kneel to me,” he said with an intensity that seared through me and set my heart pounding. “Not as a requirement, nor in jest. You are not now, nor have you ever been my slave.” His grip tightened, though not quite to the point of pain. “You saw the need to bind me by oath to not bring you harm in your world, nor to challenge the laws of your land, nor bring destruction. Consider well that you are in my world now and the wearing of this collar for a short time goes far in protecting not only you but also this realm—and me—from the machinations of unscrupulous qaztahl. I will not remove it prematurely to prove a point.” He released his grip and took a step back from me, but his eyes never left mine.

  I swallowed hard. “All right,” I said reluctantly. “But swear to me that as soon as they’re gone, the collar’s gone. Please? I hate this thing.”

  Rhyzkahl stroked the back of his fingers over my cheek. “I swear that, as soon as the conclave is over and the lords have departed, I will remove the collar.”

  I felt the grove activate again, with yet another, a different, “feel”—confirming my suspicion that each lord had his own signature resonance.

  A few heartbeats later Rhyzkahl looked up and lifted his chin toward the grove. “Amkir arrives.”

  I turned to see three reyza exit the tree tunnel and leap into the air, followed by a pair of faas who immediately darted toward the palace. After another few seconds, a syraza stepped out and took flight, and finally a lord with a faintly olive complexion and short dark hair emerged. His resonance with the grove wasn’t calm like the previous lord’s or peaceful like Elofir’s. This Amkir had a harsh feel that seemed be confirmed by his unsmiling expression and narrowed eyes. He wore a deep green, long-sleeved robe, belted at the waist. The three-quarter sleeves were decorated with bands of gold, and the whole outfit reminded me vaguely of a Russian fresco I’d studied back in college as part of my mostly useless Art History degree.

  “Do you expect Mzatal to come?” I asked Rhyzkahl after Amkir disappeared from view.

  Rhyzkahl gave a low snort of derision. “I doubt Mzatal has the tebakh—” Which I somehow knew meant “balls” or something damn close to it. “—to come to my domain now.”

  I shivered, remembering Mzatal’s face and what he’d said before he’d retreated down the tree tunnel: I will retrieve you. I rubbed my arms in an attempt to dispel the memory of his scary-intensity.

  Rhyzkahl moved to a place beside me on the rail, watching as Amkir’s reyza rose to meet Kehlirik in either greeting or challenge. I couldn’t tell the difference.

  “Tell me of your time with Mzatal,” he said. His eyes were still on Amkir’s approach, but I had no doubt his attention was fully on me.

  The last thing I wanted to do was go through all of that shit, but at the same time I completely understood Rhyzkahl’s desire to know what happened. It was a post-incident debriefing, I figured. Plus, maybe something I’d seen or experienced could give Rhyzkahl an advantage over Mzatal somewhere down the line.

  I gave a fairly emotionless recounting of the summoning and the damn purification ceremony. Told him about Idris and his skill, and my exploration of Szerain’s palace. I watched him for any reaction when I told him about my connection to Elinor, but his expression remained one of polite interest.

  “Did you know about that whole Elinor thing?” I asked.

  “Yes, you carry something of her,” he replied with complete calm. “It is part of the reason you required extra protection in the form of a syraza guardian.”

  I straightened, frowning. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? I mean, she damn near destroyed this world.” I felt the grove activate again, but I resisted the urge to look toward it.

  “I did not choose to distress you with unnecessary information,” he stated. “It seemed but a mild whisper of memory to you. More awareness, more knowledge on your part, increased the risk of other qaztahl discovering you and seeking you, as occurred with Mzatal.” His gaze shifted to the grove as another lord exited. “Vahl,” he said with a slight frown.

  Vahl’s demonic contingent consisted of a reyza, two faas, one kehza, and a graa—a scuttling, crab-spiderish-looking demon that could fly with lightning speed. It had only been a little over a week ago that I’d been attacked by a graa. I knew there was little chance it was the same one, but I couldn’t help eyeing it somewhat dubiously as it flew to the top of a squat broad pillar near the grove, already occupied by over a dozen reyza, kehza, and zhurn.

  The lord was another matter. Tall, dark-skinned, and broad-shouldered, he wore a close-fitting long-sleeved grey shirt and dark jeans that showed off a build that was muscular in all the right places. His hair was closely shorn, and he sported a perfectly trimmed mustache and beard. His aura was welcoming and dangerous at the same time, and I watched him with avid interest as he approached.

  Dark eyes lifted to mine as he strode down the path, and a slight smile touched his mouth. A moment later, the demons on the pillar erupted in an uproar of bellows, snorts, trumpets, and squawks that carried clearly in the crisp air and gave the strong impression of laughter. They engaged in groups of two and three with mega-rock-paper-scissors and other apparent games, lending a party-like atmosphere to the assembly. “They sure like their games,” I said.

  Rhyzkahl looked over at me with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “Everything is a game to them.”

  I smiled and continued my tale. Rhyzkahl’s eyes narrowed when I told him about the shrine and how I freaked out when I saw the image of the blade. But it was when I told him of falling with Safar and crashing into the grove—and the grove’s incredible response—that he truly reacted.

  His lips parted slightly, and red-gold potency flickered briefly in his eyes. “And when you passed through the grove after that, was it the same?” he asked, gaze and presence intense. “Did it still respond to you?”

  “When we went through the grove to go to Mzatal’s realm, it simply felt incredibly peaceful,” I told him, smiling a little at the memory. “But the next time we went through, I knew I could use it. That’s how I escaped and kept Mzatal from removing your mark.”

  An unusual, faraway look lit his eyes as he looked out past the rail. “Yes,” he said softly. “Clearly you have a very special connection to the groves.” A few heartbeats later he returned his focus to me, faraway look gone. “And what of your injuries once Mzatal had you again?”

  “He healed me,” I replied, then told him of the healing and the return to Mzatal’s realm, the attempt to remove the mark and, finally, of his conviction that Rhyzkahl sought Szerain’s blade and of Mzatal’s drive to get it first.

  Rhyzkahl remained silent for a moment after I finished, then turned to face me. “Mzatal is arrogant and knows little of what I want,” he said as he stroked the hair back from my face. “That he seeks Vsuhl is valuable information. Very valuable.” His hand stilled, resting against my cheek. “The chekkunden had hopes to make you his own. He did not kill you upon attaining you, and kept you whole.” Anger darkened his eyes. “And then he sough
t to remove my mark,” he said, nearly snarling the words. “It is an unforgivable offense.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, grimaced. “Well, he came close to killing me more than once.”

  Rhyzkahl nodded. “And he sought to slay you through the implant.” His other hand curled into a fist atop the railing. “He now curses his weakness for not killing you while he had you fully in his control.” He sneered. “Foolish that he would think you could ever be his.”

  I smiled tightly. “Yeah, well, I’m not his. I won’t ever be his.”

  His eyes shifted to me. “No. No you will not.” He pulled me to him before lowering his head and brushing my lips with his. “You belong with me,” he said, voice compelling and resolute.

  I slowly relaxed against him as he deepened the kiss. This was what I’d been needing all along—the nice, caring, and sensual Rhyzkahl instead of the badass lord. I needed a damn hug, and if a curl-your-toes kiss came along with it, well, that was fine, too. His arms encircled me, holding me close. I slid my hands around his neck and through the white-blond silk of his hair as I eagerly returned the kiss. I’d been way too stressed these past few days, and I knew exactly how I wanted to relieve it.

  He slid a hand to the small of my back, pulling me hard against him and showing me his own stress that needed relieving. His other hand tangled in my hair, lightly fisting as he pulled my head back. I groaned as his mouth traveled down over my throat, teeth grazing my skin. I felt the grove activate but I didn’t care. I wanted to have sex, not watch lords.

  But, Rhyzkahl, damn him, lifted his head and looked out toward the grove. I tried to pull his head back down to mine, but he exhaled and shifted away from me. “The last two, Rayst and,” he shook his head slightly, “Seretis.”

  I did my best to control my pesky libido and looked out at the approaching lords. These two had a scattering of reyza and faas with them, but also at least half a dozen syraza. Rayst had a swarthy complexion and what seemed to be a stocky build beneath nondescript robes, though he moved with a grace and ease that told me the thickness of his body likely wasn’t due to being out of shape. Wavy brown hair swept back from his face to the nape of his neck, and the smile on his face was broad and genuine as he conversed with a syraza beside him.

  The other lord, Seretis, was tall and rangy, with chiseled cheekbones and dark, wavy hair that brushed his shoulders. He totally looked as if he belonged on a Spanish-language soap opera. The fact that he wore a frilly RenFaire type shirt, black breeches, and boots only added to the impression. These two exuded patient kindness and a subtle strength—unless I’d missed something. Why did Rhyzkahl shake his head when he saw them?

  I did a mental head count of the lords. Process of elimination meant the first one today had been Vrizaar. At least now I had faces to put with names, except for Jesral.

  “So Mzatal won’t be coming,” I said, relieved.

  “He could arrive under protection of the conclave,” Rhyzkahl replied, “but he will not. You need not trouble yourself with that.” He stepped back, adjusted his clothes with a twitch of his hands, and shook his hair back into perfect place. “There is much I must attend to,” he said with a smile, eyes still carrying a hint of a smolder.

  Oh, well. So much for de-stressing. I summoned a faint smile in return. He turned to go, then paused and looked back at me. “What of after Mzatal was thrown back, and he failed to remove the mark?” he asked, a frown creasing his forehead. “What happened then?”

  I grimaced and ran a hand through my hair. “He wanted to find a way to block my contact with the grove, so he decided to take me to some place in the middle of nowhere so that he could have some time to work without you finding him.” I gave a low chuckle. “And that’s when I got my ass out of there and used the grove to come here.”

  “Yes, relocation to a remote grove would have caused delay,” Rhyzkahl said, “though I would have found you.” He lifted the hand that had been so bloody the night I arrived. “I was in the final preparations for it when you so cleverly escaped.” I couldn’t be sure, but I thought there was an approving glint in his eye.

  “Just in the nick of time, too,” I said with a chuckle. “Mzatal was getting…um, weird.”

  Rhyzkahl lowered his hand and frowned. “Weird? What did he do?”

  “He kissed me,” I said. “But it was weird and, I mean…” I trailed off, not sure how to explain it.

  Red-gold potency abruptly shimmered around him. “Kissed you?” he hissed through clenched teeth. I took a step back in surprise at the vehemence of his reaction. “Mzatal kissed you?” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “He had no right to touch you thus!”

  “Well, yeah, he didn’t have the right.” I said. “Not without my permission.” I frowned and watched him, wary. “Look, it was just a kiss, and an odd one at that. I mean, it lasted a few seconds at most.”

  The flare of potency faded, but his eyes smoldered again. “Nothing with him is without purpose.” He closed the distance between us again, eyes traveling over me. “Nothing.”

  “I’m starting to realize that,” I said with a wry smile.

  He moved in and gripped my head firmly in his hands, wound his fingers in my hair.

  I laughed low in my throat. “I thought you had lords to attend to?”

  “I am unavoidably detained.” He tightened his hands in my hair with the perfect amount of intensity to send heat rushing through me. “I have far more pressing business here.”

  His mouth came down on mine, fierce and possessive, as if to remind me what a real kiss was like. His arms came around me, and he lifted and carried me inside before near-throwing me onto the bed. I let out a surprised yelp, then grinned as he took hold of my sweater and pulled it over my head. I hadn’t put on a bra earlier, and I was damn glad of it now as he lowered his head to my breasts. He continued to suck and lightly bite as he undid the fastening of my pants, then sat up, grabbed the waistband, and yanked them off me in one fluid motion.

  “I do not like that Mzatal touched you,” he growled before lowering his head between my legs. I groaned and dropped my head back as he began to work some lordly magic with his tongue. Mzatal certainly hadn’t touched me there, but I was totally okay with Rhyzkahl doing whatever he felt necessary to fuck the Mzatal off me, so to speak. More than okay. In no time at all I was crying out and clenching in orgasm. Mzatal who? I don’ know any Mzatal….

  Rhyzkahl was far from finished. He straightened up, eyes still lit with a possessive fire that made my loins spasm and shudder in all the right ways. “You are mine,” he snarled. “My summoner.” He pushed his pants down only enough to free his erection, which somehow turned me on even more. Yet even with my libido raging like a nuclear reactor in meltdown, I forced myself to hold up a hand. “Wait,” I gasped.

  To my surprise he went still, though his eyes narrowed in question.

  “Swear to me that you won’t get me pregnant,” I said, still trying to catch my breath. Back at home I was on the pill. Here, I had no such protection, and I did not want to take the chance that a lord/human hybrid was possible.

  He gave a low snort, though I couldn’t tell if it was in amusement or derision. “I have no desire to get you with child,” he told me. “I swear I will not do such without your consent.” Before I could do more than nod in acceptance, he seized my hips, flipped me onto my stomach, then pulled me up to my hands and knees and entered me in the same movement. With one hand he pushed my head down to the bed as he drove hard into me, wringing low guttural cries from me with every thrust. He knew me so damn well, knew what I wanted—what I needed right now. I didn’t want lovemaking. I wanted some hard and mindless fucking, and he was damn well going to give it to me.

  His hand tightened in my hair and his other slid around to massage my clit. Before I knew it I climaxed yet again, giving a hoarse scream as I bucked in his grasp. Rhyzkahl continued to thrust deeply as I shuddered, but as soon as I was finished he pulled free and turned me onto m
y back. He kneed my legs apart and entered me again. His mouth came down on mine as I wrapped my legs around him, yet this time he kept his pace slow, almost teasing as he kissed me. I moaned against his mouth and slid my arms around to stroke the smooth muscles of his back.

  He broke the kiss to nuzzle below my ear. “I am deeply pleased you escaped to come here,” he murmured.

  “You just like staking your claim,” I replied with a low laugh.

  His teeth grazed my neck. “Dahn. I have no need to claim what is already mine.” He began to thrust harder, and my desire for any sort of conversation fled. I lifted my hips to him, already feeling another orgasm building. Was it some sort of demonic lord trick that made that possible? If that was the case, I was totally ruined for human men.

  I clutched at him as the pleasure built between us. He came first, with me only a few seconds behind, in a frenzied tangle of limbs and hair and sweat and musk. Eventually he slowed and stopped, still lightly pulsing within me.

  “You are my summoner,” he said, looking into my face.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I said with a throaty laugh. I lifted up my arm. “I even have the tat to prove it.”

  Chapter 14

  After Rhyzkahl left to greet the lords, I dozed a bit. Or maybe I was in a post-coital coma. Either way, I lay in languid stupor until well after the midday bell, only dragging myself up and out of bed after a pair of faas entered—again with the no knocking, but bearing food.

  After bathing and dressing—and discovering that I was nowhere near as sore as I should have been after the morning’s exertions—I headed out to explore more of the palace grounds.

  Kehlirik wasn’t waiting for me in the corridor, though I had no idea whether it was because Rhyzkahl decided to trust me or because the reyza had been disciplined for my attempted break for the grove. I hoped to hell it wasn’t the latter. I liked Kehlirik, and he’d been distracted only because of his efforts to shield me from Sehkeril’s harassment.